


drabble meme

by likecharity



Category: British Comedian RPF, Fashion Model RPF, The Dead Weather, The Kills, White Stripes
Genre: Crack, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, Multi, Rough Sex, Substitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likecharity/pseuds/likecharity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>1.</b> Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.<br/><b>2.</b> Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.<br/><b>3.</b> Write a drabble related to each song that plays.<br/>You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble<br/>You start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!<br/><b>4.</b> Do ten of these, then post them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drabble meme

**Author's Note:**

> Well, er...these seemed less weird at the time.

**01 – The Presets; Yippiyo-ay** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?kldlc73tef38u9w)]  
 _Alison/Noel. (Well, this song is kinda sexy, and that combined with[this brain-meltingly hot fanart](http://p0ppy.tumblr.com/post/4862545927/ali-noel-slashiness-for-hollie) I saw on Tumblr the other day...resulted in this being my very first thought.)_

She keeps clinging to him, her fingers clutching his waist and neck like she's afraid he's going to move away. There's a sort of frantic agitation to her, like she can't quite stay still, stop for a moment and just breathe it all in. Like she's scared it'll slip right through her fingers if she does. Noel's never done anything to give her that impression, he's been just as eager as she is right from the start, though he did almost get left behind as she tore off her clothes and he just stood there, dazed, in the middle of his own little kitchen. She was almost done, her bra and one lone sock left forgotten when she realised he was still, transfixed, and impatiently she pulled him towards her and began undressing him too in the same sort of bewildering, clumsy rush. She was tugging at the waistband of his pants when he stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist and a hushed _hey_. She looked up at him, huffing out a breath and blowing the hair out of her face.

"'s not a race," he'd murmured, and she'd shaken her head and blushed. He kissed her, running his fingers through her tangled mane of hair, and it was almost like she was startled by it—she stumbled back against the counter and made a little noise against his mouth, a sort of whimper.

When he pulled back she was smiling, a mischievous grin splitting her face in two and her cheeks still flushed pink. She slid her hands back onto the counter behind her, shoving things aside, laughing a little sheepishly when most of it went on the floor. Noel couldn't take his eyes off her as he lifted her up, hitching her onto the counter, and she spread her legs and pulled him in between them immediately, bra strap slipping down her shoulder as they kissed again.

Now, he's got her fingernails digging into his back and his own hand is braced against the counter, beside her bare foot, her toes curling against the sharp edge. He reaches between her legs at the same moment her hand slides down and beneath the waistband of his pants, and they find each other hot, slick, aching. 

The whole time, she never quite lets go of him, touching him wherever she can, keeping him close. Perhaps the reason it seems so strange is that Noel can't imagine who the hell would ever want to leave her.

 

**02 – Faithless; Insomnia** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?878u233p7328em0)]  
 _Alison/Jamie. (Set during the writing of Midnight Boom. I...I don't quite know where this came from, except that I've always been really intrigued by the insanity they've said they experienced while making the album.)_

They've been working too hard. It's a simple explanation but it doesn't make anything much easier. Jamie feels like he's losing his mind. They're so close to a breakthrough and yet so far, and maybe just giving up and surrendering themselves to madness is what they need, but he clings desperately to the last scraps of sanity, scared to let himself go completely. He worries about himself in spare moments, distracted on the phone talking to Valentine and speaking in song lyrics. He and Alison are up all night, writing 'til they run out of paper and then resorting to scribbling on the bed sheets until they're a mess of black and blue ink that bleeds through the fabric into nonsensical, rhythmless poetry. They've stopped taking drugs to keep themselves up because it just seems to happen naturally now, and before long days blend seamlessly into nights and they lose track of time. 

Jamie starts getting headaches, panic attacks, starts hallucinating strange smoky figures in the room with them, little wispy creatures watching from the shadows. He can't sleep when he's around Alison—she surges it all forwards, hunger and light and excitement—but in the rare, brief moments when the two of them are apart, he sinks into seconds of fitful sleep where his subconscious goes wild, plays out hours of dream visions that leave him shaken and confused when he wakes up on the cold tiles of the bathroom or kitchen floor.

In his dreams, he and Alison are one, a single untamed creature, roaming dark woods, and he can hear every crunch and snap of the leaves and twigs beneath their feet on the forest floor. They separate and then fuck like something feral, tearing at one another, sharp teeth slicing through clothing, nails becoming claws and digging into raw red skin. Everything is achingly hot and vivid; he can taste the sweat on the tendon in Alison's neck, feel the pulse of her around his cock and the wet grass beneath them, hear the high, animalistic whining sound she makes against his ear. 

He starts to lose track of reality. It starts not to matter so much anymore.

 

**03 – Flunk; Blue Monday** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?m2nh2hveb0dcqcx)]  
 _Alison/Jack. (I don't like this one. Augh, there are so few forms of Alison/Jack fic that I accept, even when I'm the one writing.)_

It's easy to go along with Jack, to do what he says, to get swept up by his quiet authority and not quite realise until it's too late. He has a way of making others feel the way he feels, seemingly without effort or even intention. 

But then again, perhaps all of this is applicable to Alison, and Alison alone.

She considered it a few times, telling him that she loved him. She never said it though, not once, and these days she can't quite figure out if that's her last shred of pride about the whole thing, or her worst regret. It's not as though she never wanted to. It was the way he gave the very strong impression that she _shouldn't_ , that _he_ didn't want her to. It was clear in the way he'd look at her, the darkness in his eyes, the tight grip of his hand on her hip as he held her down. He always seemed angry, during, and gradually she became quieter and quieter. She didn't need to provoke him anymore, and it began to feel less like a sordid affair and more like something real.

Every now and then, she'd think he felt the same way. She'd catch a glimmer of light in his eyes or a softness to his features when she smiled at him. Once or twice he'd be gentle, too gentle, and it seemed like that _meant_ something. Once, she thought she heard him say it, as he made his way towards the door in the dark, but she was pulling the sheets up and they rustled and she was too afraid to ask him to repeat himself. Too afraid to hope. The door snicked shut quietly and she was left alone in the hotel room.

When he told her it was over, she accepted it silently, obeyed when he told her to go. But sometimes she wonders how it would have gone if she'd been more honest, if she'd told him that she loved him so much her heart ached with it, if she'd screamed and cried at the mere thought of losing him, if she hadn't kept it all inside for fear of causing the whole thing to fall apart. It seemed better just to take it, and not ask any questions, at the time.

 

**04 – Yeah Yeah Yeahs; Way Out** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?h3jxcarytgv6ugy)]  
 _Alison/Kate. (Writing this made me unexpectedly sad.)_

People have been falling in love with Kate for as long as she can remember. It makes her blind to certain things, to the nuances and subtleties of love, makes it all blur together into simple adoration. It's easy, and it's usually meaningless, and she takes it all because it makes her feel needed, but it's not often that it really seems to matter.

It doesn't matter with Alison, not really. When they first meet, Alison gets blushy and clumsy around her like a boy, and Kate barely hesitates in her assumption that Alison admires her. She never even bothers to figure out if it's platonic or romantic or sexual, let alone any of the hundreds of subcategories of love and admiration that Alison herself is well-versed in. It's not arrogance, it's just that she's so _used_ to it.

The first night they go out together alone, without Jamie, it's so easy for Kate to drink a little too much and kiss her in the back of a cab, the two of them tipsy and giggly and Alison so nervous her hands are shaking.

It feels like she's just giving Alison something that she wants, like a gift. She doesn't think much more of it than that, even when it goes further than Kate would usually let it, even when she knows the soft skin between Alison's legs like her own, even when she's married and Alison still comes to her sometimes with a sadness in her eyes that tells Kate she's lonely.

People have been falling in love with Kate for as long as she can remember. It makes her blind to certain things, like the way Alison only ever wants it when Kate's just been with Jamie, the way she kisses and probes so deeply like she's trying to find her own traces of him. The way she never closes her eyes but stares searchingly at Kate instead, like she's trying to see what Kate can give him that she can't.

 

**05 – Britney Spears; How I Roll** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?cppbboo44tbs9so)]  
 _Kate/Noel/Russell. (Yes, you read all of that right. No, I don't know either...)_

"You're married," says Noel pointlessly through the bright pink plastic straw wedged between his lips as he sucks down some more of his cocktail.

Russell's eyes widen at him. They are bright and he is fidgety. "It's Kate Moss," he says. " _Katy_ would fuck Kate Moss if you gave her half the chance, Noel." At this point he looks over his shoulder to check if Kate is coming back yet, which means he misses the massively doubtful look Noel gives him in response to this last comment.

"I don't get it," Noel says, again through his straw, looking down and watching his drink spiralling upwards into his mouth. It tastes like strawberries.

Russell looks back at him, faintly horrified. "You must be mental. How can you, Noel Fielding, red-blooded male, _not_ want to—"

"I find her kind of annoying," Noel interrupts. He sort of shrugs, but not enough to disrupt the drinking process. Russell looks horrified. "Anyway, didn't you already sleep with her?" Noel asks, looking up from his cocktail at last. "There's no conquest, where's the excitement?"

"It's not about bloody _conquest_ with Kate Moss," Russell hisses urgently, checking behind him once again before turning back and leaning even closer. He lowers his voice, which means Noel has to strain to hear him over the music. "And yes, I did, three and a half times, and they were the best three and a half times of my entire glorious existence, Noel, so don't you go belittlin' it just because you—" he pauses, as if even repeating the words is offensive to him, " _find her kind of annoying._ "

"She's coming back," Noel says, through his straw again, as he spots Kate slinking back towards them from the ladies', handbag swinging from her arm and her lips freshly painted red.

"Are you telling me that if Kate Moss invited us both back to her hotel with her, right this moment, and the subtle yet obvious implication was that she's gettin' a bit sick of this Jamie fella and she wants to try 'er hand at the Goth Detective threesome—" Russell gives Noel a very serious look, and Noel almost starts choking on his drink, "—you'd _turn her down?_ "

Before Noel has a chance to respond, Kate reaches their table and slips into her seat with a smile. Russell springs back and grins at her, running a hand through his hair. It gets stuck, but she appears not to notice. Instead, she pulls Noel's drink towards her, the straw leaving his mouth with a quiet _pop_ , and finishes the rest of it herself. Then, she slides her hands beneath the table, one on Noel's knee, the other on Russell's thigh. 

"You boys gonna take me back to my hotel then?" she says brightly.

 

**06 – New Young Pony Club; Get Lucky** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?t4yezishs0358yi)]  
 _Sort of Alison/Noel, plus Alison/Jamie, Alison/Jack, and Alison/Kate. (This is almost too complicated to separate out into neat little pairings like that.)_

Noel prides himself on being a very good friend. If Alison calls and says she wants to go out, he drops what he's doing and meets her at whatever club she chooses. He sits on curbs with her and shares her cigarettes and listens. If she starts to cry, he lets her wear his cape. 

It's really only happened a handful of times, but Noel remembers each one, each conversation, in sparkling detail. He could tell from the moment Alison opened her mouth that this was special, that she didn't confide in just anybody, that she'd reached breaking point and he was the one she chose to put her trust in.

The first time, he learnt about Alison's extremely complicated feelings for Jamie Hince, about how sometimes things happened between them that she couldn't explain, things that walked a tenuous line between the definitions of their relationship but never overstepped it, leaving her clueless and floundering. He learnt that once, the two of them took a shower together, a long time ago when their band had just started out and they'd had some awful gig in New Orleans and thought they'd lost a record deal. They'd both been crying; climbed into the grotty motel shower together because they needed each other at that moment. Alison described how they'd washed each other's hair and how they'd felt more like siblings than anything, but how, as time has passed, that one event has become increasingly significant in her mind. Noel learnt that they haven't ever spoken of it since, and to him this seems like the most important factor.

Another time, he learnt about Jack White. He learnt of the violence in Alison's relationship with him, the way they would fuck seemingly without any regard for each other's safety, the way Jack would take Alison by the throat and squeeze until she thought she was going to pass out. Alison lifted her leopard-print scarf aside and showed Noel the bruises hidden beneath it, blue like biro ink on her pale skin. She told him how much she loved it, how sometimes he would slap her if she got on his nerves but how it only meant he was going to fuck her later, hard if she was lucky. Noel just told her he understood, because it was true, and she didn't pry.

Last time, Alison told him that sometimes when Kate Moss has had a bit too much to drink, she gets handsy, and sometimes Alison lets her. Laughing hoarsely like she was ashamed of herself, she told him that it made her feel closer to Jamie. She would let Kate do the things that Jamie wouldn't do, and it would feel like a compromise. This was the time when she ended up going off on a tangent, about old boyfriends (and a girlfriend she had when she was fourteen) and how things always seemed to go wrong. 

This was when Noel learnt that she had the most spectacularly bad luck in relationships of anyone he had ever met, and he longed with all of his heart to try and _fix_ it, to show her that love could be starry-eyed and magical and _complete_ , and that sometimes it only has to hurt in the good way. But he didn't say anything; he just slipped his cape over her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek as she grinned and sniffled, and elbowed him away.

 

**07 – Daft Punk; Alive** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?xcz78tqdml5l8ek)]  
 _Alison/Kate/Noel. (*shrug*)_

They all go out together after the gig in London. It almost feels like a double-date, but only for about the first three minutes, when Kate and Noel turn up at the dressing room door. (They show up together, but in an awkward sort of way, that makes it clear this was more by circumstance than choice.) Kate greets Jamie with a kiss and Noel copies her, smooching Alison on the lips obnoxiously, which makes Alison shriek with laughter—but Kate just shoots her a look like she thinks it _means_ something, and Jamie turns away.

The night doesn't really improve. It is immediately clear that Kate and Noel do not get on, and that it's not the sort of thing that can be worked at but simply the clashing of incompatible personalities, worsened by what Alison detects as subtle bitchiness on both sides. Kate keeps not laughing at Noel's jokes, in a very deliberate sort of way (though Alison hears her murmuring to Jamie that she 'just doesn't _get_ him'), and Noel seems to think Kate is just dense. Alison knows he doesn't have a spiteful bone in his body, and everything he says seems light-hearted on the surface, but there's an unusual snideness to some of his comments tonight that she can't quite ignore.

Which is why she's incredibly startled when she stumbles across the two of them making out furiously outside the toilets in the third club of the night. 

It has been a long night, seemingly endless—the gig already seems like days and days ago and everything since then has been an unrelenting stream of noise and colour, too many mojitos and too much dancing. Alison only realised quite how drunk she was when she stood up to go to the bathroom and now, with the vision of Kate and Noel swimming in front of her, she thinks she's maybe not drunk _enough_. They only part once she's been standing there for at least ten seconds, and even then it's reluctant, Noel's hand still tucked under Kate's dress and resting on her thigh. Noel looks slightly sheepish, but Kate just shrugs as if to say _oh, well_ , and slumps back against the wall.

"What—" Alison manages to croak out, though she can hardly hear her own voice over the din of the music, "what the fuck?"

Distantly, Alison wonders if this is because everyone wants Kate and if she comes across a rare person who _doesn't_ then she'll damn well make them. Or maybe it's just like those grade-school crushes, where you pull someone's hair because you don't want to admit that you like them. This theory seems to fit, at least, with Kate and Noel and their lack of maturity.

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," Noel says, grinning, and his hand runs higher up Kate's thigh, hitching up her dress.

Alison is still staring at it, following its path, when she says faintly, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Kate reaches out to take her hand and pull her closer, and Noel nuzzles warmly against her neck. Alison considers her question answered.

 

**08 – Air; Dead Bodies** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?vegpv8cdzwy2onz)]  
 _Everyone/everyone. (I DON'T KNOW, OKAY? The song didn't exactly give me anything to go on in the way of lyrics or anything, and the beginning sounds so cheerful, and...this group just_ asks _for orgy!fic sometimes. Look, just bask in the utter ridiculousness of this and don't ask questions.)_

It always seems to happen at Jack's house, for reasons nobody really bothers to go into beyond the fact that it's the biggest, and the fact that Jack seems to be a sort of ringleader of them all, so if he throws a party then everyone comes, and if it turns into an orgy then it turns into an orgy, and that's all there is to it.

Alison wakes up first, between Jamie and Jack in the middle of a sort of heap on the floor of the living room. She manages to get to her feet, slipping out from between them. Jamie makes a small noise of discontent and curls against Kate on his other side, and Jack—his arm draped over Karen's pale, naked body—sleeps on. She picks her way across the room, stepping carefully over Meg and Jackson, who are sleeping soundlessly at Jack's feet. Meg looks so peaceful, as innocent as if she were asleep in her own bed at home instead of sprawled naked on the floor of her ex-husband's living room.

She's looking at the various members of Jack's other bands, in a pigpile in the far corner, when she nearly trips over Brian. He's curled up under a throw, his head resting against Jamie's calf, and she has to stifle a giggle with her hand over her mouth. She tries to focus on getting herself a glass of water and a cigarette without waking up the whole room. She passes the sofa, where Noel is sprawled over both Julian and Russell, and where Simon—a newcomer—is a little restless beside them, a pillow on his lap and a slightly confused look on his face, even in sleep. Alex and Alexa are spooning at his feet, and Dee is snoozing with her head on Sue's chest a couple of feet away.

Jefferson has an armchair to himself, and beyond him are the supposed 'exes' of all present, some whose names Alison isn't even sure of. She takes a moment to survey the room, the odd sight of it, the way they all look like dead bodies sprawled out like this, naked and still and silent. It's the most peaceful time, really, and she likes to be the first up so that she can really appreciate it. There's no awkwardness in sleep (apart, maybe, for poor bewildered Simon) and everything is quiet and calm in the morning, in contrast to the wild noisy mess of the night.

The sun streams in through the blinds and Alison smiles, and heads towards the kitchen.

 

**09 – Project Jenny, Project Jan; Tonight** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?9by8uygjata2t1h)]  
 _Alison/Noel, plus Alison/Jamie and Noel/Julian. (I've been wanting to write something like this, but this is the only way I could see it going and it seems too sort of...cliché or twee or something, but oh well, at least it's written now.)_

"Julian won't do this," Noel says, as Alison takes his cock between her lips, feels the slight cling of the skin and pulls it deeper into her mouth. Noel's breath catches; he takes a second. "Lets me do it to him, though, that's okay, but he—he won't do it to me."

"Does Jamie do this to you?" he asks after, his breath ghosting between Alison's legs and making her shiver. She shakes her head. "No," Noel says quietly, "'course not," and buries his tongue in her, tries to make her forget.

"He'll do this," Alison says after, kissing Noel on the cheek and then on the lips, but chastely, a polite sort of peck devoid of passion.

"But not this?" Noel asks, and deepens the kiss, slides his hand over Alison's jaw and cups her face, tongue sliding between her lips.

She hesitates, then. "Only if we're drunk and he can make it out to be a joke."

"Ditto," Noel says, and then later, as they shower together, "Julian won't do _this_."

Alison turns the water hotter and says quietly, "Jamie will." But when Noel pulls her close under the stream of water, she says quietly, "not like this..."

"He'll do this," she says when they settle down in bed, mostly naked, curled together.

"Julian won't."

Alison leans in, lets their noses touch gently. Noel tries to keep looking at her but she's out of focus, blurred. "Julian's an idiot," she says softly, almost offhandedly.

Noel's lips quirk into an almost-smile. He kisses her, and then—

"So's Jamie."

 

**10 – Sleigh Bells; Infinity Guitars** [[♫](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?l739834k33vcvae)]  
 _Alison/Jamie/Jack. (Um. Ummmm. I sort of want to write more of this.)_

"You're hurting her."

"She likes it."

Jamie falters for a second. "I know," he says sharply, "but you're _hurting_ her," because there's a difference in his mind, because it's okay when he does it and a problem if someone else does.

"He's not hurting me," Alison assures Jamie quietly, her voice almost slurred, and more American than usual, as though adapting to Jack's.

"Oh, really," Jack drawls, clutching Alison's hips tighter, driving into her deeper, slapping the swell of her pale skin at his hips and watching his own red handprint blossom.

Jamie watches the way Alison's mouth moves, the way it opens in an _O_ first as she lets out a surprised, almost delighted little cry before widening into a grin. He shifts, closer, and reaches out—he intends to tuck back her hair, it's hanging in her face, but somewhere along the way his finger ends up between her lips and she bites gently down on it, rocking forward with the motion of Jack's hips. Jamie's other hand is between his own legs, down the front of his trousers but not his boxers, as though it doesn't count if he touches himself like this, through a thin layer of cotton. Alison sucks his finger into her mouth, and another. Jamie has to shut his eyes. He can feel the texture of her tongue and the roughness of the roof of her mouth, and the pressure, the suction—

"Suck him, Alison," Jack's voice says, a gruff whisper that sounds oddly more like a plea than a command.

"No," says Alison wetly around Jamie's fingers, and Jamie hears the sound of Jack spanking her again, feels Alison's resulting gasp. 

He shuts his eyes tighter.


End file.
